


what do you know about this kind of love?

by jellyjamjelly



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Bisexuality, Cussing, Emotional Hurt, Everything Hurts, F/M, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Panic Attacks, Questioning, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, daisuga - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyjamjelly/pseuds/jellyjamjelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tldr; Daichi is straight. Suga is not. Suga fucks up. Fucking up hurts. Daichi fucks up. Fucking up hurts. Everything hurts.</p><p>Suga is a half-closet gay who constantly has to deal with the reality of homophobia. Daichi is presumably straight, has a girlfriend, and a good life. The two have always perceived their relationship in different ways, until Daichi begins to understand  what Suga means by 'love'. Thus brings forth the unfortunate cycle of denial and hurt and rejection and Daichi's total confusion and frustration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic ever (my first piece of creative writing in several years) and DaiSuga is my otp, so it just makes sense that they should be the main pairing in my first fic. I'm honestly trying to make this as close to urban fiction/reality as possible, but really, it could just sound like a very, very cliche soap opera. With gay characters. And some questioning. I've never really been in a relationship myself, so I have no idea how to write about romance. This is my attempt at it. It's like a warm-up for a longer multi-chaptered fic in a different AU I want to do later (it was my first idea but I didn't know how to weave much romance in it, so I'm writing this to get experience writing about love). In short, I really don't know what I'm doing. I just drowned myself under a sea of fic this summer and suddenly felt the urge to write one. Please give me some feedback so I have a little better idea of what I'm doing.

Suga sighed, loudly, as he watched Noya scramble onto the stool next to him and order two beers for the both of them. This was going to be a _long_ night, one he wasn't sure he deserved. He let himself lean back-  _fuck -_  before realising belatedly the lack of a back rest on shitty bar stools and reached towards the bar to catch himself. His thumb encountered something sticky, and Suga pulled back with distaste. 

_Ew, gum._

Were people here still in middle school? Who, of drinking age, even stuck gum under the counter-top anymore?

Suga sighed again,  _loudly._

This was absolutely the last place Suga wanted to be at that moment, perched on a tall barstool that could hardly support his exhausted body, watching the cheapest beer clunk down in front of him by a bartender with an it’s-too-late-for-this-shit attitude, foam spilling slightly on the scratched-up countertop. _Well, thank you too._  Noya was on the stool next to him, incessantly rambling about things Suga could only feign interest in, Noya’s too-loud voice competing with the rest of the noises swarming around Suga.

He _detested_ sports bars.

They were always full of boisterous college kids who couldn’t hold their liquor but still threw down shot after shot, and men who were too eager to display their heightened testosterone levels, tore through their steaks and burgers, catcalled any female attendant and shouted misogynistic and homophobic slurs like they were reciting the alphabet.

“That fag can’t throw a fucking pitch!”

“Somebody better bench that pansy -”

After the hundredth derogatory remark he heard geared towards his community, Suga really wanted to nudge his queer ass off the stool and just run out of the filthy bar. Or maybe flip a finger if he couldn't will his legs to do such strenuous movement. But this was the first time in weeks that he had seen Noya, or hung out with any of his friends at all, and he really _did_ miss them. So he tried to endure and block out the noise, instead focusing on feigning interest in Noya’s hyperbolised stories. Noya didn’t know Suga was gay, nor did he need to know, nor did Suga ever want him to find out. So the setter just shut up, and gritted his teeth while he indirectly took insult after insult. None of his friends here knew his preference for men, and Suga preferred that it stay that way.

'Discovering' his sexuality was easy enough. Suga remembered the exact moment, that day in high school, right after club practice, when he had a sudden  _desire_ to taste dick, but he did not mention his sexuality to anybody - no, who the hell would? Not in this blatantly homophobic society. After graduating high school, Suga left to study abroad, and only did he come out to some of his liberal foreign friends. But Suga was not about to come out to his friends here in Japan. Life already sucked for him. He didn't want to be truly alone in the-place-he-called-home-but-was-no-longer-home-for-him.

Suga pushed the onslaught of negative emotions away and took another sip of his beer. Perhaps he could drink his sorrows away. Noya was still talking a mile a minute beside him - something about a drunk Tanaka taking his shirt off on the streets and getting smacked by an old lady and her handbag - but over the years of knowing the libero, Suga had learned how to tune the man out just enough to get the gist of the conversation, but not feel assaulted by Noya's words that probably felt like jet bullets to the Noya-Amateur. Suga watched as Noya asked for another beer, and raised a brow. Did Noya just chug his beer? He glanced at his own glass, only a quarter of the beer gone, and his hand automatically brushed against the pocket where he held his wallet.

 _Oh yeah. I'm broke._  He could only afford one glass tonight. Actually, he doubted he could afford to go out drinking at all. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Noya gesturing wildly, still elaborating on the way the old lady chased the drunk Tanaka down the streets. This was going to be a  _long_ night. And he couldn't even afford to get drunk.   

After three years abroad, Suga returned, graduating early. He sat his parents down right after his homecoming and came out. Suga shivered, remembering how fucking _cold_ that night was. He could still recall vividly how the silence and the evening chill permeated every pore in his body after the words left his mouth. How his mother’s hands started to tremble under the table. How his father’s mouth was set in one hard line, his eyes full of disgust, and how _disgusted_ Suga felt too, for disappointing his parents, who had pinched every penny in their pockets to pay for his studies abroad. His skin crawled. It was _still_ crawling. And the next moment, Suga felt a hand-shaped sting on his cheek -  _I deserved it -_ his father was throwing all his unpacked baggage out of the window of their house -  _I deserved it -_ and shouting at Suga to “get the fuck out and never show your revolting face here until you’ve fixed yourself!” - _I deserved it -_ how his mother had been weeping tears of disappointment and despair - _I deserved it -_ how Suga had spent the night wandering, and fighting back tears, finally settling down in a playground to sleep.

_I deserved it._

He had called up Noya and Asahi, letting them know he returned, and thank  _god_ his friends didn't question further, simply rolling out a futon for Suga to stay the night. His sexuality was not important in this relationship, and he refused to ruin it by coming out to risk their rejection.

Suga had his own place now. A shitty excuse of an apartment really, with rent so low, it _had_ to have been part of some sketchy deal. Money was still kind of a problem though, even with Suga working several part-time jobs to accommodate his own living expenses. He had been trying to find a job worthy of his college degree for the past several weeks. But now, here he was in this sports bar, really too broke to be here, drinking the only affordable beer on the menu very slowly, so the sassy bartender couldn’t pressure him into his next one.

Noya slammed his third beer down with a satisfied sigh, effectively jolting Suga out of the the spiral of thoughts he was about to drown under, and hopped off the barstool, quickly muttering ‘bathroom’ before disappearing into the hordes of rowdy sports fans crowding around a television streaming a baseball game. Suga glanced to the other far end of the bar, where far fewer people were. The smaller television screen on that end was playing reruns of volleyball matches and Suga let himself smile a little, reminiscing about his time as vice-captain in Karasuno High School’s volleyball team.

Everything would have been so simple had time just stopped in high school. 

He missed the volleyball court, the feeling of the ball on the tips of his fingers, the smell of air salonpas and sweat in the club room (okay, he missed that a little less), celebratory cheers with his teammates, staring at Daichi's back during class and trying to catch glimpses of his jaw and simply admiring the aura of strength and reassurance that Daichi emanated. He wished, every day, that he could just return to- _what_ _?_

A broad torso with robust muscular shoulders and arms attached, hidden only under a light jacket, stopped inches in front of Suga, looming in front of the seated man. The silver-haired man allowed his eyes to wander up the chest, follow the line of the man’s square jaw, to the thin, very kissable lips, and those eyes… Shit.

Why was Daichi here?

Why was he- 

_Fuck._

Suga suddenly found it very, very hard to breathe, like his sternum was being crushed into his vertebral column, and a wave of nausea washed over Suga, rendering him dizzy and even more breathless. Somehow, he knew it probably wasn’t the tasteless beer he’d been sipping for the past half an hour. Suga didn’t even realise he had been fiercely staring at his former captain through his panic attack until Daichi's ear-to-ear grin fell into a concerned frown.

“You’re back Suga! Are you okay? You look sick. Are you okay?”

Suga really must have _not_ looked okay if Daichi had to ask him twice whether he was okay or not, but he somehow managed keep his voice neutral, even making the herculean effort to tilt his head upwards and smile at the man in front of him, although he could still feel the bile rising in his throat, his heart hammering wildly in his chest cavity, his lungs threatening to cut off sustenance, and he fought the urge to sprint right out of the bar. He swallowed audibly. “I’m fine, probably just had a little too much to drink.”

Suga attempted to keep his Daichi-induced panic attack under control while the person at fault glanced at Suga’s still-half-full, now-fully-fizzled-out glass of beer and raised a brow. Damn Daichi and his captain-worthy observational skills. Of course Suga wasn’t okay. It was Daichi's lips that Suga had fantasised over in high school (and still fantasised over now). It was his face Suga saw every time he closed his eyes at night. 

Yeah. No. Suga was not fucking okay.

Daichi was straight. Suga was not. Suga ran away. Suga fucked up. Fucking up hurt. Running away to a different country did not take away the pain. It stretched it out; dug it in deeper; made it hurt more. 

And now, the man himself had just casually strolled up to Suga as if he wasn’t the cause of all Suga’s woes. This was not a Romance Novel Reunion. This was Suga's Mental Breakdown Moment. After a few seconds of silence between them, Suga had managed to get his breathing (mostly) normal, but it was Daichi who spoke first.

“If you say so.”

Suga nodded with another (fake) smile to (unsuccessfully) reassure Daichi. The man took that as a cue to make himself comfortable on the barstool which Noya had previously occupied. “Anyway, how have you been? I haven’t heard from you for a while. I don’t even know where you went. The States or something? What did you study? When did you come back?” Daichi’s brow furrowed, as if it suddenly occurred to him that he was lacking way too much information about high-school best friend’s recent life.

He really was.

Daichi knew absolutely nothing of what happened to Suga after the high-school graduation ceremony three years ago, while Suga could say he knew a little bit about Daichi’s university life. He kept himself updated through Noya, Asahi and Tanaka who loved to constantly pester Suga with emails. Suga knew that Daichi had to take a temporary break from volleyball due to a knee injury. He knew that Daichi majored in business and management, but didn’t actually like it that much. He knew that Daichi had begun to date Michimiya after what seemed like an eternity of flirtatious courtship. He still flinched every time Noya complained about his experiences as the third-wheel.

Suga hummed in affirmation at Daichi’s claims and started speaking in slow, measured intervals, not trusting himself yet lest he found himself drowning in a panic attack all over again. He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I went to the States. I just graduated with a Bachelor’s in Economics. I’ve been back for around two months now.”

He smiled a little. If this was just a friendly conversation, he could do it.

“That’s impressive. In only three years?”

“Mhmm. How are the other guys by the way? I haven’t heard much from them.”

That was a big fat lie. He simply didn’t want Daichi to know that the only person he hadn’t heard much from was him.

“Oh, they’re the same as always. Noya and Ryu are still so rowdy. Asahi works at a bar now. Can you believe it? The guy can't even stomach liquor! He still can't, really. And... Hinata and Kageyama are dating.” Daichi chuckled a little. But what came out of his mouth next made Suga wince.

“Those little fags, honestly.” 

Luckily, the pained expression that momentarily passed over Suga’s face went unnoticed by Daichi. It didn’t look as if Daichi bore any real animosity towards the homosexual couple. But the way he had used the term so easily confirmed Suga’s concerns. That three years later, his hometown was still ignorant and homophobic, and that even the kindest people like Daichi did not escape its influence. Suga really envied Hinata and Kageyama’s courage to be so openly gay in this kind of social environment.

Suga laughed softly in an attempt to hide his discomfort, very awkwardly. If Daichi sensed the unease in Suga’s voice, he didn’t say anything. In fact, Daichi _had_ noticed the moment he sat down that Suga hadn’t quite been the reassured, confident person he remembered from three years ago, but he couldn’t quite place it. Had Daichi done something wrong? As much as Suga tried to mask it, it was evident that Daichi’s presence was making him uncomfortable. Daichi’s brow furrowed for the second time in that conversation. He wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension in the atmosphere. But nothing came to mind except pointless small talk. Just as he opened his mouth, his phone vibrated. Daichi whipped his phone out of his pocket, not missing the audible sigh of relief that escaped Suga’s lips. The air around them relaxed a little, that is, until Daichi started speaking.

“Hey Yui? What’s up?”

***

At Michimiya’s name, Suga’s breath hitched a little. Of course, Daichi was dating Michimiya. Of course, Daichi’s girlfriend would call him. After all, it was 11pm, and Michimiya was probably worried. Wait, did they live together? They went to the same college, didn’t they? They were practically a couple back in high school. How far had their intimacy gone? Suga could feel his rib-cage shrinking with each thought, crushing the air out of him. No, no, no. He could _not_ have another panic attack right now.

Daichi stood up, pocketing his phone and sighing.

“Yui wants me to bring her ice cream. She’s still finishing up for finals.”

Suga looked up, nodding.

“Well then, I’ll see you around Suga.”

Daichi waved a little before walking towards the exit. Suga waved back, still not trusting himself to say anything and suddenly very aware of the vacant space next to him. Fortunately, Noya decided it was a good time to make a reappearance. He bounced back onto the barstool.

“Hey, hey- that was Daichi wasn’t it? Damn, I just missed him.” Suga nodded. “Oi, are you okay?” Suga sighed, realising he was actually exhausted from his short conversation with Daichi.

"Just tired. I’m going now. Have an early shift tomorrow.”

Suga stood up and placed a couple of bills next to his still-unfinished beer. He did not really have an early shift tomorrow, but lying to his friends was no longer foreign to him. He just needed to get home and sleep, and maybe stop thinking for a while.

“Ah, wait up then!” Suga sighed again as he heard Noya’s footsteps hurtling towards him.

***

As Daichi pressed the button of the elevator to Yui’s apartment, he thought back to the conversation he had with Suga. Suga had looked so, so tired. Paler than Daichi remembered him, which could only mean it was now approaching a deathly pallor. The elevator stopped, opening at Yui’s floor, and as Daichi walked towards his girlfriend’s apartment, convenience store ice cream rustling in a plastic bag, he couldn’t help but wonder whether Suga had a girlfriend himself.  _He probably does. He is pretty attractive._

Truth be told, Daichi and Yui’s relationship hadn’t been going too well lately. It was fine on nights like this, where Yui just asked him to bring ice cream and they studied together. They knew each other well, but it had never really gone beyond a couple of kisses and hand-holding. These last few months had been the worst, although neither of them dared to admit it. They had been arguing a lot more. They couldn’t be around each other for longer than a couple of hours before hostilities arose, and so on a mutual agreement, they decided not to live together despite the length of time they had been dating. Perhaps, Daichi thought, perhaps they weren’t meant for each other. But both of them liked routinely hanging out together, and both of them liked to know they had someone to lean on, and both of them liked to be able to say they were in a relationship with someone. Neither of them were willing to leave each other, almost out of practicality. Daichi sighed as he grabbed a key from his pocket and let himself into Yui’s apartment. At least they had spare keys to each other’s apartments. It gave the pretense of a closer, more romantic relationship.

Daichi set the plastic bag down on the small dining table before walking towards the single bedroom down the narrow hallway. He knocked twice on the closed door before opening it, and as usual, Yui was sitting there, headphones encasing her head, gripping a highlighter in her hand as she glared at her textbook and notes. Noticing Daichi’s presence in her room, she took her headphones off, letting them hang around her neck.

“Yui, your ice cream.”

“Thanks Dai-kun.”

Daichi hummed, acknowledging her appreciation before turning back into the hallway. He decided to settle in one of Yui’s couches as he turned on his phone. He stared at the tiny monitor for a little while before clicking into contacts, mindlessly scrolling, and wondering if Suga had kept the same number from three years ago.

***

Suga _had_ kept his number from three years ago. In fact, he was still using the phone he received from his parents in high school, having stuck with it for five years now. He was too broke to get a new one, and it would have been way too much of a hassle to transfer the contacts from this phone onto a new one. Suga was staring at said phone which froze more often than not, and the bright monitor illuminated his face in the pitch-black darkness of his room as he swiped at the phone without much purpose.

Suga was tired. He was ridiculously tired. The moment he stepped into his room, he had collapsed onto the painfully thin mattress atop his bed’s metal frame without even bothering to peel his socks off. The several part-time jobs he had been juggling were taking a toll on his body. But he couldn’t seem to sleep. He was still thinking… too much. He locked his phone, allowing the brightness of the monitor to fade before sighing and setting it down next to his lap. He closed his eyes for a little bit, but his mind was still swimming, not allowing Suga to rest thanks to the panic attack he had earlier. It was a strange sensation, his mind being so alert yet unable to keep a single thought straight. It was like exerting a lot of effort to wade through mud and noticing every single little detail, like the way the mud caked and dried on skin, the feeling of watery dirt going through the gaps between toes, and little marshland creatures climbing on his foot. But even as he waded, and waded, he still couldn’t see the end in sight.

As much as he tried, Suga just couldn’t fall asleep. And his confused thoughts were confusing him even more with every second passed. He rolled towards the edge of the bed thinking if he could just get his limbs to move, walk the few steps to the bathroom and douse himself in cold water, it would distract him from the now swarming thoughts. But his body fought tooth-and-nail against the decision to move. So Suga was now lying on his stomach, arm hanging off the edge of the bed, phone sandwiched between his leg and the mattress. He let out a small defeated sigh, letting his body remain in the position for a while.

The phone vibrated, immediately sending violent tingles down Suga’s leg and shocking him out of his strange drowsy-alert state.

Just who in the world was messaging him at this hour?

Sighing once more, Suga pulled the phone out of the crevice between his thigh and the mattress with great difficulty. His body really felt like dead weight… but as he glanced the illuminated screen, he sat up with such vigour that he was finally able to get off his bed, by falling off, painfully. He ended up on the floor, sitting on one ass-cheek, in a twisted mermaid position, as he stared and stared at his phone.  

The name _Sawamura Daichi_ reflected off Suga’s wide eyes, glaringly bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suga sure sighs a lot. By the way, Daichi isn't consciously being a dick. People are simply very ignorant about the LGBTQ+ community in East Asia. 
> 
> Please, please, please give me feedback. I don't know what I'm doing. 
> 
> I'll update if people like this? I'm on summer break right now, so I have a lot of time, and I know where this is going. But I kind of need feedback to make sure future chapters aren't shit... Oh dear. 
> 
> If you made it all the way to the end, thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where all hell breaks loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments! This being my first fic, I was really touched. This chapter's a bit longer than the last (and it took me a while to write wew), but it sure doesn't let up on the angst. This chapter also has a lot more dialogue, and I just realised that I don't really know how to write dialogue.

_(23:39)_

_To: Sugawara Koushi  
_ _From: Sawamura Daichi_

_Suga, I hope you’re still using this number. If you are, I hope I didn’t wake you with this message. I really enjoyed seeing you today. We should see each other again sometime._

_\- Daichi_

Suga would probably have snorted at the message had the sender not been Daichi. The former captain texted like an old man, and that had always amused Suga. When they were in high school, he teased Daichi about it endlessly, and his best friend would play along, feigning annoyance, but in truth, they both secretly enjoyed the mindless banter. Volleyball had made their high school lives memorable, but it was the friendships they forged in those three years that had made it enjoyable. The Suga right now, however, was not laughing. He had already spent five minutes seated in the uncomfortable mermaid position, the tingle of pins-and-needles climbing up his leg, rereading the text over and over again with an indecipherable expression that seemed to be forever stuck on his face.

So Daichi had enjoyed seeing Suga? Their reunion was way too fucking awkward to be enjoyable. They should see each other again? _No._ Suga didn’t think his heart would be able to hold out. As much as he fought against the emotions, Suga felt too strongly about Daichi. _Love. Pain. Affection. Rejection._ There was no way they could return to the easy friendship they once had. Suga couldn’t even converse normally with Daichi. All of Suga’s usual wit and effortless optimism imploded before Daichi, rendering the college graduate completely inarticulate.

Suga sat there a while longer, long enough that he could no longer feel the leg he was sitting on. Painfully picking himself off the ground, he limped towards the water pitcher on his nightstand, suddenly very thirsty, eyes still glued to the phone’s screen. His thumb hovered over the _‘delete message’_ button. In all his disorientation, Suga stubbed his toe against the foot of his bed, tripping forward and pressing the button accidentally. A sudden wave of panic and then a displaced sense of eerie calm washed over him. _Maybe this is what fate decided._ _But I still hope I don’t regret this_ , Suga thought. _Sugawara Koushi, apparently dependable as fuck, running away, yet again._  

The setter pushed the approaching onslaught of negative emotions towards the back of his skull, and instead mulled over deleting Daichi’s number off his contact list. No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. He could avoid reading and ignore the texts Daichi would send him as long as he could identify who the sender was. Suga laughed mirthlessly. They used to call him “the indomitable setter”. Unrelenting, confident, steadfast. Suga just couldn’t feel that way anymore. He ran away three years ago, too weak to face himself, his sexuality, and Daichi. _And look at me now,_ Suga thought. _I haven’t improved much, have I?_ Suga was still running from Daichi… and yet clinging desperately on to him like a lifeline.

A muted scuttling interrupted Suga’s thought. _Rats._ He was hearing them every night now. Even though Suga kept his apartment incredibly clean (for a recent college graduate), rats were an inevitable side amenity that came with the promise of ridiculously cheap rent, and every night, he was reminded that he should really find a legitimate profession and a nicer apartment soon. Suga sighed, walking to his desk and flipping his laptop open. Thanks to Daichi’s unexpected late-night message, Suga had become too awake to get any sleep. He opened the most recent draft of the cover letter he was working on before Noya dragged him away to that crappy sports bar, peering disapprovingly at the words before deleting a few sentences and rewriting them. Just as Suga’s mind began to brainstorm how he could advertise himself effectively, he heard the scuttling again and sighed once more. No, now really was not the time to be distracted by attractive straight men, especially not the likes of Sawamura Daichi.

***

Empty beer cans and and half-eaten takeaway boxes littered Daichi’s small living room as the tenant of the apartment surveyed the damage and exhaled loudly in annoyance, patience wearing dangerously thin. He turned as he heard Noya’s fifth beer being slammed onto his coffee table, a little bit of the liquid sloshing out of his can, splashing onto the table and the floor.

“Ah, that hits the spot!” Noya exclaimed as he threw his head back laughing, too satisfied and too loud for Daichi’s liking. Daichi’s eyes narrowed even further, if that was physically possible, sending shivers down the spines of the two more sober men in the room.  

“Asahi, Tanaka. Let’s pack away the rest of the beer before Noya drinks himself to the underworld.”

Asahi nodded, clutching his own can of lemon soda in one hand and stopping Noya’s hand with the other, gentle concern in his eyes. Noya protested quietly, upset that Asahi had barred him from reaching for the next can of beer. Tanaka looked torn between his desire to continue drinking and the trauma of being on the receiving end of his former captain’s iciest glare.

“Oi, Noya,” Tanaka huffed. “I’ll introduce you to some hot girls if you promise that this is your last beer tonight.”

Daichi looked very unamused.

“…But the girls you introduce are never really that pretty…” Noya complained. “C’mon, let’s enjoy ourselves once in a while, Daichi.”

Tanaka grumbled, obviously wanting to continue drinking. “It would be nice if Suga-san was here. He would know what to do…”  

Asahi released his clutch on his soda (other hand still on Noya’s) and stroked his goatee thoughtfully. Noya giggled. At times like this, Asahi really did look like some old sage from the history books.

“Yuu, didn’t you invite Suga?” Asahi asked, voice low with uncertainty.

“He said something about having a late night shift or an early morning shift. Forgot which one. He seems to be stuck with loads of these odd shifts nowadays.” Noya shrugged. He also hadn’t seen his friend in a while, but he was aware just how far Suga pushed himself to work those several jobs.

“He’s going to overwork himself at this point.” Asahi shook his head, worry clear on his face, lopsided frown and furrowed brow gracing his usually mellow features.

Daichi couldn’t help but think he was missing something. Why did it seem like all his friends knew what Suga did, except for him? Daichi couldn’t even contact the man, let alone communicate regularly.

“What does he do?” Daichi asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Tanaka, Asahi, and Noya looked mildly confused as they struggled to grasp the question.

“Didn’t Suga tell you? He works several shitty part-time jobs to pay rent. Doesn’t he keep in contact? We emailed regularly when he was in America… You can text him as well. He uses the same number he did in high school,” Noya explained slowly.

It was Daichi’s turn to be confused. Email? No, Suga had hardly contacted him at all in the last three years. And what a surprise. So Suga _had_ kept his old number. Daichi felt anger simmering to the forefront of his chest. He must have texted Suga at least five times since their meeting at the bar, but Suga had not returned a single text. The first few times, Daichi convinced himself that Suga was perhaps too busy to reply, but by the fifth time, Daichi had resigned himself to the fact that Suga had probably changed his phone number. _But no_. _That apparently was not the case._ Daichi had his suspicions… but to have them confirmed was a whole different ballpark.

“Noya, did you tell Suga that I’d be here tonight?” Daichi no less than growled. The former captain hardly lost his composure, but the mixture of anger and alcohol had torn away his amiable facade.

“Y-yeah.” Noya shuddered, wondering just what he had done to spite his captain, but Daichi paid no heed to the tension in the room. He gritted his teeth in frustration. It was all glaringly obvious now.

“That bastard’s avoiding me.”  

***

“That looks really good on you, Suga-san!”

Laughter echoed off the walls as Tanaka Saeko popped her blonde head around the doorframe of her younger brother’s room, peeking as Suga turned left and right in front of a full length mirror, pulling at the hem of a loose-fitting white shirt and tucking it into equally loose dark slacks that trailed the floor.   

“I really do hope so, Saeko-san. They say that good presentation is the first thing they look for in job applicants, and I really do want the job. These are rather large on me though.”

Suga tugged on the slacks which slid another inch down his waist, coming to rest on the man’s slender hips. He stepped forward to pick up the belt resting on a chair and almost tripped due to the length of the trousers. He frowned slightly and turned to Ryuu who was sitting cross-legged by his bed, watching the entire spectacle, clearly amused.

“Tanaka, can I alter the length of your trousers? I promise I’ll return it to its original state once I’m done with it,” Suga asked, bending down to fold up the hem of the slacks.

Tanaka threw his head back and laughed obnoxiously loud, obviously pleased to see just how much taller he was compared to Suga. The wing spiker had grown several inches after his time at Karasuno, and now stood quite a bit taller compared to Suga who was annoyed but tried not to show it. It didn’t help that Suga had lost weight due to the stress of his work which made Tanaka’s clothing an even looser fit than it would have been.

“Of course, Suga-san. Of course,” Tanaka breathlessly replied, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. “I wish I could have found some of my older clothes since they are smaller, but they’re probably rotting somewhere in the storage room.”  

Nodding, Suga closed the door and began stripping out of the borrowed clothes, placing them into a plastic bag ready for the job interview at the prospective company the next day. Suga was already nervous for the interview, and he did not want to risk ruining his chances by wearing the yellowed shirts and faded slacks that hung in his wardrobe. He probably had better business attire at his parents’ home, but he was not about to pay those bigots a visit.

Tanaka watched as his former vice-captain slipped his jeans on and started cautiously, “Say, Suga-san… When are you going to make up with your parents? It’s been a while since you’ve spoken to them, hasn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re borrowing my clothes?”

Suga stiffened and was silent for a few very long seconds. _Crap, maybe I overstepped my boundaries_ , Tanaka thought. Suga hadn’t really wanted to talk about his parents to anyone, but Tanaka had always been a courageously curious person. Slowly, the silver-haired setter turned, and where the wing-spiker expected to see a frown on his face, in its place was a wide smile. Blindingly bright. _Unabashedly fake_.

“Oh, maybe at some point I suppose.” Suga shrugged as though indifferent, but thought bitterly, _When I’ve found a nice girl to marry, a nice girl I’ll never be able to love._ “It’s just that I’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t really been able to think about it.” _Bullshit, I think about it everyday._

Tanaka nodded, seemingly satisfied with Suga’s fabricated response with a thoughtful expression that looked dangerously out of place on his thug-like face. His mouth opened, and closed, then opened again with the one question that Suga absolutely did not want to hear.

“Then why didn’t you ask to borrow Daichi-san’s clothes? He’s closer to you in height and size, isn’t he? Not that I mind lending you my clothes…” Tanaka started backtracking as he saw the increasingly pained expression on his former vice-captain’s face. “W-well, I mean I don’t use them anyway, and you don’t really, I mean I guess, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…” He trailed off, murmuring.

Suga looked down at his socked feet before picking up the plastic bag of borrowed clothes.

“It’s okay, Tanaka. I don’t really want to talk about it though,” Suga quietly replied. A moment later, he was smiling softly in an attempt to reassure his anxious junior, however forced it was. Tanaka truly admired Suga’s selflessness and strength. He had always put other people’s problems before his own. “Thanks for lending me the clothes by the way. I’ll be sure to ace the interview tomorrow - just for you.” Suga’s smile had widened to a grin which seemed to be genuine as he hopped out of the room, walking towards the house’s front door to pull his shoes on. He waved as he left, grin still plastered on his face.

Tanaka followed him to the door, shouting after his senior, having forgotten to tell Suga the news Noya had asked his best friend to pass on earlier.

“Suga-san, volleyball team reunion at Karaoke X next Friday! 7PM! Be there!”

***

A blast of music and noise met Suga as he opened the door to the private karaoke room Noya had reserved for the Karasuno volleyball team reunion, half an hour late. Noya and Tanaka were passionately singing (read, screaming) along to some American punk rock song which nobody else seemed to know, but were enjoying (probably not the song, but the duo’s antics). Hinata was trying to read the English lyrics fast enough to sing along with his seniors, but gave up on the first chorus. His orange head still enthusiastically bobbed up and down to the beat of the music even when he resigned himself to the fact he would not be able to sing English songs. As soon as the final strum of the electric guitar ended the song, Noya spotted Suga by the door and shouted into his microphone, uncomfortably loud.

“You’re late, Suga-san!”

Suga laughed and scratched his head apologetically as he made his way over to the couch Noya and Tanaka were sitting at and dropped down next to them.

“Sorry, sorry… I got held up at work because I’m new, so my superiors worked me past dismissal time.” Suga shrugged and pulled on the folded sleeve of the white button-up, turning to Tanaka. “And I swear I’ll be returning this to you once my first paycheck cashes in.”

“I guess nobody can escape asshole bosses. They are everywhere nowadays,” Noya huffed out in reply.

Suga nodded in agreement. But in truth, he felt as though his life had finally taken a turn for the better. Fortunately, he was offered the office job with a decent wage and was no longer working the several part-times he had been doing previously. His current salary could also afford a better apartment, and he had already planned to move out of his shit-hole apartment in a month. Suga hadn’t felt this contented since returning to Japan. Just the idea of leaving that rat-infested hole forever made him excited.

Suga sneaked a look around his surroundings. Everybody seemed to be having fun. Asahi and Ennoshita were singing some soulful Japanese ballad Suga didn’t know. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were sitting quietly, watching everybody with amusement (and maybe a little boredom). Hinata and Kageyama were snuggling up to each other, which was truly endearing. Judging by the glasses of beer littered across their table, Noya and Tanaka were probably having a drinking competition. And Daichi… well, Suga didn’t really want to look at Daichi. He turned to Noya instead.

“Why karaoke though?”

Noya replied, puffing his chest out a little proudly. “Because we still have underage kids here,” he gestured towards the boys who were high school freshman three years ago and were now college freshman, “and we are not such irresponsible seniors to allow our underage juniors to drink illegally, but we still want everybody to have fun,” Noya finished with a smug look on his face.

“However, the most irresponsible drinker here is still you, Noya-san,” Asahi said smiling, as he took the seat next to Suga, the ballad music fading out in the background. Noya pouted in defiance.

“Not true.”

Giggles escaped from Suga’s lips which he tried to smother when Noya shot him a dirty look.

“I think I’ll get myself a drink too,” Suga decided as he stood up to call an attendant. He took a step, but immediately was yanked backwards by a hand that had reached out suddenly to grab his wrist. He turned towards the wrist-grabber, pulling up chiding words to scold the person, before he realised who it was. The words got stuck in his throat, choking him.

Daichi dragged Suga down to the empty seat beside him, visibly fuming, and spoke to his high-school best friend with a bluntness that Suga could only flinch at.

“Why are you avoiding me.” Daichi was not even questioning Suga. Daichi was interrogating him. Daichi had just made a statement; not even a question.

Suga drew his hand back to his own lap and bit his lip nervously. What could he say to that?

“What do you mean, Daichi?”

Everybody had stopped silent now, sensing the tense atmosphere between their former captain and vice-captain with some concern. There was only the sound of a song Tanaka had chosen, GLITTER DAYS, playing in the background.

Daichi growled, voice low with fury. “You know very well what I mean, Sugawara.” He whipped out his phone, shoving it in Suga’s face like a weapon. “Ignoring my messages, never emailing me while you were away. Apparently everybody else had the honour apart from me. Your best friend, Suga!” He slipped his phone back into his pocket and sighed, exasperated and with a hint of hurt. “I thought you wouldn’t come today as well, because I was here.”

Suga stood up, trembling on legs that looked like they would give out any second now. He _had_ actually considered not coming today, but he really did want to see his volleyball team. And he thought that since there was a larger party today, he could get through the night without having to talk to Daichi. That plan had obviously backfired on him.

“Sorry, I- I think I’ll go get m-my beer,” Suga said, stumbling away. This time, Daichi didn’t stop him, and Tanaka resumed singing GLITTER DAYS after a moment of awkward silence, albeit a lot quieter and sounding rather frightened despite the upbeat song.

When Suga returned, he was still trembling, but he seemed a lot more composed than he did earlier.

“GLITTER DAYS, huh?” Suga nudged Tanaka as he sat down.

“Yeah, my sister started getting into this basketball anime. This is one of the ending themes. I mean, I didn’t watch it! Sort of. Maybe a little. But I’d rather watch an anime about volleyball!”

“We could be the stars of the show,” Noya chirped in. “Nishinoya Yuu, guardian god libero!”

Suga chuckled, trying to join in the obvious attempts to lift the tension.

“And I’ll be the main character,” Hinata jumped up shouting, too excited about some fantasy of an anime. “Middle blocker and decoy with crazy athletic skills! And you be my partner, king of the court, stupidly amazing setter.” He smiled at his boyfriend fondly.   

“Idiot, stop calling me that,” Kageyama frowned, feigning disapproval. “And it’s obvious that I should be the main character.”

Suga tried to focus on the lighthearted, affectionate bickering between the freak duo, but while he had been able to compose his facial expression, his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He stood up abruptly, muttering a quiet ‘bathroom’ to whoever could hear, and left.

***

The moment he walked into the bathroom cubicle and locked the door, Suga collapsed onto the filthy ground next to toilet, curling into a fetal position. His hands were clutching his knees so tightly in an attempt to stop the shaking that his knuckles had turned white, and he was sure that the skin around his knees had begun to bruise. Suga bit his bottom lip, hard enough that he tasted the coppery flavour of blood on his tongue and willed away the tears that had started to form in his eyes.

Suga was an incurable asshole, wasn’t he? He certainly felt like one. Dependable, his _ass_. He had been so selfish, thinking only about himself and running away from Daichi without even stopping to consider that his actions had hurt Daichi as well. Daichi had the right to be angry. He had every right to be absolutely fucking furious. They used to be best friends. Until Suga screwed it all up with his lust and romantic desires. They used to be… they used to be. Whatever they used to be, they no longer were, but Suga could only blame his fucked-up self.

The tears were now threatening to spill over onto Suga’s pale cheeks. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t cry. He could _not_ cry.

He _wouldn’t_ cry.

_Sugawara Koushi did not fucking cry._

A throaty sob escaped his lips, and it all came flooding down.

***

“Suga-san? Suga-saaan.”

Hinata’s shrill voice rang throughout the previously silent bathroom, and when there was no response, the orange-head turned to his boyfriend standing beside him and raised a brow. The dark-haired setter shrugged and nodded towards the door, preparing to leave. Suga had probably left, and while they were worried, the problem wouldn’t solve itself if they simply stood around and shouted into an empty bathroom. Kageyama took a step towards the bathroom door when the sound of a lock turning seized their attention, and startled, they whirled around just in time to see Suga wearily emerging from a cubicle, a tired smile playing on his lips. If the duo noticed the red around their vice-captain’s eyes, they didn’t say anything.

“Hinata. Kageyama,” Suga acknowledged the duo as he walked towards the sink and started running his hands under the cold water, splashing some of it onto his face. His face was impassive, but Kageyama didn’t miss the fleeting questioning glance.

“You were in here for a while, Suga-san. Asahi-san started to get worried and sent us to find you,” the younger setter explained.

“Sorry for the trouble. Sorry for worrying you guys,” Suga sighed, running wet hands through his already-disheveled silvery strands. “How do you do it?” Suga asked, glancing towards Hinata and Kageyama's linked hands.

“Do what, Suga-san?” Kageyama replied with another question, raising a brow.

“Be all, you know, publicly romantic, affectionate,” Suga stammered, “that kind of stuff.”

Hinata and Kageyama gaped for a while, confused. They had never heard their former vice-captain stammer, let alone say such inarticulate phrases like ‘that kind of of stuff’. When the actual words had permeated their thick skulls, they stared at each other and jumped back several feet, retreating to different ends of the bathroom. Now, it was Hinata’s turn to stammer.

“I-I’m sorry, Suga-san. If that made you uncomfortable, we can stop doing it.”

Suga shook his head furiously, cursing at himself for making his juniors so upset.

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant! I just think you’re both very… brave,” Suga’s voice was getting quieter as he continued. “It’s just that I, I wouldn’t be able to do it. After all, I’m g-gay too.” His voice had dropped to no more than a whisper as he concluded his spontaneous confession.

Nobody dared to even breathe for a few seconds as Suga’s words hung over the three men like a raincloud. Despite their open homosexuality, Hinata and Kageyama did not know what to say when their senior had came out to them like that, in a bathroom, looking like he had just wept his eyes tattered. Suga’s chocolate-grey irises still shone with tears, the whites of his eyes rimmed with red, the blood vessels dilated to a soft swelling.

Kageyama was the first to break the silence. “Suga-san. I doubt very much that Hina or I would be able to help you very much. We’re also still very new to this homosexuality and coming-out kind of thing,” he began slowly, pausing slightly before continuing. “But I could give you the number of the friend who helped us through a lot of this, if you’d like.”  

Suga shook his head in response. He couldn’t believe he was turning to his juniors for relationship advice. “It’s okay, Kageyama. I wouldn’t want to bother your friend. And I doubt he would be very happy if you outed him to me, even if I’m gay as well.”

“I’m sure he’d be very happy to talk to you. He likes doing this kind of stuff, talking to other people and helping them sort through their problems.” Kageyama shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, I could ask him now.” Suga opened his mouth to protest, but the younger setter had already whipped out his phone and began writing a message to this ‘friend’. Not a few seconds after the message was sent, the phone buzzed with a reply. Kageyama glanced at it quickly.

“He says he’d love to talk to you,” the dark-haired setter relayed with another shrug of his shoulders. “Here, I’ll send you his number.”

Suga sighed, defeated. He could never win against the younger setter, could he?

“Thank you, Kageyama-kun,” Suga gave a half-smile. “Thank you, Hinata-kun. Would you please tell the other guys that I’ll be leaving first? Tell them that I’m not feeling particularly well?” He stepped forward on wobbly legs.

The younger two nodded, understanding Suga’s discomfort. They remembered that when they first came out, all they wanted to do was hide in a closet for the rest of the week.

“Maybe tell Asahi to take my coat?” Suga opened the door, exiting the bathroom with a few more tentative steps. “Then, I’ll be leaving first.”

The silver-haired setter turned right, the opposite direction to the karaoke room Noya had reserved, waving briefly before disappearing.

Hinata’s wide eyes followed the silver hair as it faded into the distance.

“Daichi-san is going to kill us.”

***

Daichi hadn't murdered anyone yet, but when the duo who had been sent to retrieve the silver-haired setter had returned empty-handed with the lame excuse that ‘Suga-san wasn't feeling particularly well’, Daichi shot  the two boys the most frightening glare anybody had ever seen grace his face. And after all the time he had spent as their captain, they thought they had seen the worst of it. Apparently not. Daichi gave new meaning to the phrase, "if looks could kill".  
  
The cool evening air was a welcome sensation against Daichi's warm skin, made warmer by the alcohol that blushed his cheeks and a subsiding rage driven by Suga's unprecedented absence. The party had disbanded at midnight after running out of songs to sing and alcohol to drink. Daichi liked walking back to his apartment although it was a solid half hour away. The exercise from the brisk pace he kept helped him sober up. He also liked wandering desolate, empty streets at night that were usually so busy during the day. Well, they were mostly empty, save for the few drunkards staggering on the streets retching as they came out of small, dingy bars. There was another one, in a salary man's attire, several feet in front of Daichi. The office worker was puking up bile next to the bar he had just exited from, one hand pressed heavily against the brick wall, the other holding back his bangs. He collapsed next to the pile of vomit with a small whimper, breathing heavily and slipping in and out of consciousness. Daichi immediately recognised the silver hair and the telltale signs of alcohol poisoning. Suga's entire face was flushed down to his neck, and his eyes, half-closed, were red and swollen. He was shivering visibly in the chilly night air without his coat. Daichi quickly stepped around the vomit and picked Suga up. He was unexpectedly light, skinnier than Daichi remembered him, and walked him painfully slow to the entrance of the bar again.  
  
Daichi called into the bar, "could we get this guy a glass of water? He's probably dehydrated."  
  
The bar owners, sweeping up and obviously pissed that someone had the tenacity to come in after closing time, shot a dirty look towards Suga, and muttered, "dirty fag" towards the now unconscious man. He did bring Daichi a glass of water though, who was confused by the offhanded comment as he fed his friend the water. He didn't think much of it, however, as he needed to concentrate on getting his friend home. Daichi rung Asahi up, asking for Suga's address.  
  
"...I just found him dead drunk and passed out on the street. I need his address so I can get him home."  
  
Asahi sounded concerned as he recited Suga's address to Daichi, but didn't ask any more questions. He prioritised Suga's safety over his own worry and curiosity, and if Daichi said that Suga needed to get home immediately, it was probably true. The questions would have to wait, for now.  
  
The fifteen minute trek to Suga's apartment was excruciating. As light as Suga was, lugging around a barely conscious person who couldn't support his own weight was a struggle. As they reached the door of Suga's apartment (the taller man raising a brow at the sketchy neighbourhood and even sketchier apartment building), Daichi allowed himself to dig into Suga's pockets and pull out a bunch of keys. He tried several different keys before getting the right one, and the door swung into Suga's apartment. Daichi cringed at the terrible interior. Suga had kept the place clean and tidy, but there was not much he could do about the dark yellowing stains on the wall _(wait, was that blood?)_ or the scratches on the floorboard that looked like a bear had stalked into the apartment and mauled it over. There were so many questions Daichi wanted to ask, like, why was Suga living in this shithole? Or, what happened with his parents? Or, what about their own friendship? The list grew to an obscene number every second Daichi let his mind wander. But right now, he had to focus on getting his second-in-command tucked into bed.  
  
Suga stirred from his upright slumber as they entered his bedroom. The incapacitated man looked at the person supporting him and clouded brown eyes flickered in recognition.  
  
"... Daichi?" Suga's voice was a single unattractive croak, so Daichi set him down on the bed and fetched Suga a glass of water from the pitcher on the night stand. Suga took the water gratefully, downing it in one breath. Suga's face turned towards Daichi's again, eyes still glazed over, unfocused, and far from sober.  
  
Still, Daichi had not expected the words that tumbled out of Suga's mouth next.  
  
"God, you're so fucking beautiful,"  Suga murmured, voice low with desire.

Cold hands cupped Daichi's jaw gently and pulled him close. Suga's face was a mere inches away from his own. So close in proximity that Daichi could feel Suga's warm breath tickle the tip of his nose. He watched as Suga's soft, pink lips curved into a seductive smile. They parted slightly, drawing Daichi in closer and...  
  
Daichi shook his head forcefully, flinging Suga's hands off his face and pushing the smaller man in the chest roughly, violently, hearing the setter's body fall against the mattress with a dull thud. Suga was now a hundred percent alert, eyes no longer unfocused, but lucid, fearful, and completely sober. The insults were hurled before Daichi could even register them on his lips.  
  
"Fucking hell, you disgusting homo!"  
  
Suga watched the rage boil up in his former best friend. He watched as Daichi's rage boiled up, knowing that all of it was directed towards him, and Suga couldn't conceal his terror. He clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out, or sobbing, or whatever the fuck the urge was. He faintly registered the violent trembling wracking his body, but his mind was too occupied with Daichi to pay any heed to it. After all, Daichi wasn't even finished with him yet.  
  
"No wonder they called you a 'dirty fag' back at the bar," the former captain hissed. "You must have laid your filthy little hands on some man's ass. Shameless _slut_."  
  
Suga only had brief memories of flirting with the tan and muscular, dark-haired bartender in his drunken bliss, but before he could completely pull up the memory, Daichi was already at the front door of Suga's apartment, vigorously pulling his shoes on, fuming. Daichi made sure to slam the door on his way out, but not before firing one last bullet straight into Suga's chest.  
  
" _How did I ever consider a fucking_ **_homo_ ** _my best friend_ ?"  
  
And the door slammed shut.

Suga was shell shocked.

He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't even cry. The trembling had stopped. The trauma was letting his mind shut down on its own so he wouldn't have to endure the inevitable pain.  
  
Suga was left lying on his bed, completely paralysed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things:  
> 1\. I should really stop making excuses for Daichi's asshole-ness, because this time around, he really was a fucking asshole. But please don't hate him yet-  
> 2\. Daichi was perpetually angry in this chapter. He isn't always! It's just this turn of events that made him so damn angry about everything. And we all know what his temper is like.  
> 3\. Yes, Kuroko no Basuke's ED just made a cameo. (That ED's my favourite because we get to see toddler Kuroko). I thought it would be funny if anime characters talked about being in an anime themselves. Like Bakuman or something.  
> 4\. Karaoke is really popular in my country. It's actually modeled after Japanese karaoke, so hopefully the descriptions are accurate.  
> 5\. The legal drinking age in Japan is 20 - so Noya, Tanaka and Ennoshita just became legal in this story, while poor Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukki and Yamaguchi still have another year to go.  
> Please leave comments! Especially if you think the pacing's too slow/fast, or the syntax is weird, or the dialogue is weird etc.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Up next on... who is gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to update this a little earlier, but we just had anime-comics convention here, and I spent a solid few days there. (I picked up so much Haikyuu! merchandise, especially of Suga). And this chapter was actually hard to write because I really wanted to show the Suga that exists outside of pain and hurt and angst, because that is the Suga we were acquainted with in the canon. 
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos!

“... Dai-kun? Daichi! Earth to Sawamura Daichi!”

A familiar voice jostled Daichi out of his reverie, and he was brought back to staring at the slice of chashu floating in his ramen broth while he vaguely registered Yui waving her chopsticks at him. He looked wearily up at her face. A strange expression tugged at her honest features, as though she was contemplating saying something to Daichi, but didn’t want to say it.

“Sorry Yui. You were saying?” Daichi sighed. This ‘date’ was not proving to be the distraction he had been hoping for. Lately, he was having all these _peculiar_ thoughts and dreams, and he wanted to do nothing more than to get away from them.

“Well, I wasn’t saying anything substantial… but is something bothering you? You’ve been spacing out a lot today.”

 _Everything_ was bothering Daichi. He had woken up this morning half-hard, and he couldn’t even remember what the dream was. But the first thought that popped into his head was, _Suga._ Daichi shook the image of soft, silver hair and the kind, heart-shaped face from his mind. The last time he checked, he was a grown-ass man - not some pubescent middle-schooler. Surely Suga didn’t have anything to do with his random morning erection. But the frequency of Suga entering his thoughts in the past few days was starting to become unnerving.

When Daichi should have been concentrating on his lectures, his mind would wander and he would remember the way 18-year old Suga jotted down notes with intense focus, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, only glancing up at the chalkboard and the teacher occasionally. When Daichi traveled home alone from the college, he would remember how Suga walked by his side everyday after volleyball practice, easy conversation flowing, so close their elbows would brush together constantly. When Daichi washed his face in the mornings, he remembered Suga’s cold hands gently holding his face and… _oh god, let’s not even go there._ Daichi regretted every single word that came out of his mouth that night. _Every. Single. Fucking. Word_ . Why had he even spewed that shit? He was fine with Hinata and Kageyama being together, right? Why couldn’t he accept that his own _best friend_ was gay?

 _He kissed me first,_ a small voice in Daichi's head persisted. _He made the first move._

And then he remembered Suga's eyes that night, blown impossibly wide and so, _so_ terrified. Fear which Daichi was the sole cause of. Another wave of guilt washed over the man. If not for that drunken mistake, Suga had probably planned to _never_ tell Daichi. And for good reason too, judging by the way he reacted.

 _Nothing excuses what I did or said,_ decided the former captain. _And I get to pay the price of my actions._

Oh, but proud, proud, _idiot_ Daichi.

He couldn’t bring himself to apologise to Suga. He couldn’t even force himself to text a ‘ _sorry_ ’ to the setter, reasoning that Suga probably never wanted to see his face or hear from him ever again anyway. Instead of apologising, he resigned himself to enduring a broken relationship with his former vice-captain, to nurse the hole that Suga had left, the hole that Daichi had opened by hurting his friend.

 _Fucking coward_ , Daichi chided himself. _Fucking idiot. It’s too late now. You’ve ruined everything..._

“... Daichi!”

The troubled man looked up once more to his girlfriend with an apologetic murmur.

“You were spacing out again. If there’s something bothering you, we really don’t have to do this,” Yui paused uncertainly. “It’s just that, we haven’t seen each other in a while, but you don’t seem to be very invested in… all this,” she gestured carelessly at everything and nothing.

 _In us_. The unsaid words hung heavily over the couple.  

Daichi sighed. He was burdening everyone with his own problems again.

“No, please, it’s okay,” Daichi insisted. “Besides, this ramen is fantastic. Shoyu ramen is the best after all.” He was relieved to hear his girlfriend’s laughter echo off the bamboo walls of their small booth.

“I do beg to differ, Dai-kun!” Yui grinned mischievously, picking up a mass of noodles with her chopsticks and slurping it up. “Nothing beats tonkotsu ramen.”

It wasn’t like Daichi could really concentrate on the flavour of his ramen. He already had too much to think about. But he was happy to oblige to his girlfriend’s challenge.

“Oh, really?” Daichi smirked, and in one swift motion, he leaned over and scooped out the soft-boiled egg from Yui’s bowl, shoving it straight into his mouth, and watching his girlfriend’s expression contort into a mixture of shock, mock anger, and then amusement.

“I guess it’s not so bad after all,” Daichi commented as he chewed.  

Well, now he just had to sit through the movie.

***

The first thing Suga noticed as he stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of his office building was Asahi’s loose bun by the glass entrance, the bear of a man himself with his back against Suga. The moment Suga saw his friend, he turned on his heel, hoping desperately the elevator door would still be open. But as soon he stepped into the elevator, Asahi turned around, spotting Suga and taking three long strides across the lobby, arm reaching far enough forward to hold the elevator door open. _Damn Asahi and his long legs_ , Suga thought, defeated.

“Suga,” Asahi’s voice was pained, as if the expression on his face wasn’t already distressed enough.

“Asahi,” Suga flashed the brunette a smile, even though the gesture felt foreign on his face. _When was the last time I even smiled?_ he wondered. “What brings you here, today?”

“Just seeing if you were still alive. Are you okay?” Asahi glanced up and down with concern, like a mother searching her child for bruises and scrapes.

_No, not really._

“Don’t worry! I’m fine, totally fine! Look Asahi, I’m still breathing,” Suga forced a grin, inwardly wincing at his poor attempt at a joke. _I might be breathing, but my humour isn't quite up to par_ , he observed.

“You dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! There’s no way we wouldn’t worry,” Asahi’s voice was somewhere between an accusatory hiss and a wounded sob. “Noya, Tanaka, Ennoshita… everyone! Everyone’s been calling and messaging you nonstop for two weeks and you haven’t replied to a single text or call. You even moved out of your crappy apartment without telling us!” _And you look like a freaking zombie!_ Asahi wanted to shout, but decided to keep the thought to himself.  

It was true. If the forty-seven missed calls and one hundred and eleven unread text messages were any indication, Suga had successfully avoided his friends for two entire weeks since that fucking _nightmare_ , throwing himself into his new job instead. He was even able to negotiate weekly paychecks with his boss for the first month and push his moving plans so far ahead that he had already settled into the new apartment a couple of days ago. He just _really_ didn’t want to find out whether or not Daichi had already outed him to the entire volleyball team. _At least it looks like Asahi doesn’t know yet,_ Suga thought with relief.

“Well, you know, I've been busy with moving and work and everything,” Suga shrugged apologetically. “Sorry for making you guys worry. But let's talk another time! I really have to get back to work, and we’re holding up the elevator,” the office worker gestured to the cramped box-like interior, lying breezily through his teeth.

“Suga-san,” Asahi warned, “Don’t mess with me. You really couldn’t spare us a second of your time in the past two weeks? Everyone knows that that’s absolute _bullshit_ . If I leave you alone now, when will I even see you again?” He paused for a breath before continuing with renewed intensity. “And I know that this is the _beginning_ of your lunch hour, not the end. You told me yourself. Suga, today, I _will_ take you to lunch,” Asahi declared, his usual gentle demeanour now replaced with something unfamiliar, as though the bear-like man was trying to be threatening, but didn’t quite know how to pull it off. Suga sighed. He couldn’t argue with Asahi like this when his friend had even made an effort to remember when his lunch hour was.

“Okay, but you’re paying,” Suga winked playfully. _I guess I’ll have to play along._

Asahi rolled his eyes, relieved to see his friend regain an inkling of his former self. He teased back, quickly dropping the thug face. (It didn't suit him anyway.) “Who’s the working man here? You really have the shame to ask a broke college student to treat you to lunch?”

Before Suga could reply, Asahi’s large hand closed around Suga’s upper arm, intending to pull the smaller man out of the elevator before he could change his mind. But the brunette stopped short, eyes wide with shock. He glanced at his hand on Suga’s arm, disbelieving. In the two weeks they had not seen each other, the setter had become such a _skeleton_ that the tips of Asahi’s thumb and middle finger touched effortlessly. As large as his hands were, he shouldn’t have been able to practically make a _fist_ wrapped around another man’s arm. It explained Suga’s frighteningly prominent cheekbones and the sunken hollows beneath them where his cheeks were supposed to be. The larger man, scared of what he would hear, sounded like he had his heart in his throat as he turned shakily to face his friend and choked out his next question.

“Suga, when was the last time you ate?”

***

The silence of the new apartment greeted Suga like an old friend as he let himself in, toeing off his shoes, and then swinging the jacket previously resting on his arm carelessly onto the back of a chair. After he began living on his own, he had quickly grown used to the absence of company when he returned home, except for the scuttling of the rats that he had oddly grown rather fond of.

 _At least they kept me company, although not in human form,_ Suga thought. He had always preferred a peaceful silence, but the silence these past two weeks had grown so heavy, so suffocating, that it was beginning to become unbearable. He walked past the kitchen that had remained untouched, save for the few coffee mugs that were stacked in the sink, and headed straight to the bathroom, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his white collared shirt. Despite Suga’s efforts to avoid his friends in the past two weeks, he had actually really enjoyed seeing Asahi. The past two weeks had felt like an eternity of being denied human company except for his old, boring colleagues. Suga regretted that he couldn’t tell his friend anything, replying simply with an “everything’s fine” every time Asahi asked a question, and he hated that the gentle giant looked so hurt that Suga wouldn’t trust him with his troubles.

“Suga, even if you can’t talk to me, please talk to somebody… anybody!” Asahi had almost shouted, turning a few curious heads in the cafe they were sitting in. “You can’t keep bottling this up. You’re not eating properly, not taking care of yourself - and you, you look like a zombie!” The man had immediately clamped a hand over his mouth, instantly regretting his words the moment it came out of his mouth.

A zombie?

Basically, a corpse on two feet.

Suga stood in front of the mirror that hung above his bathroom sink, letting the shirt fall and pool around his wrists. He had not really paid any attention to how he looked in the past two weeks, so the realisation was disquieting: the way his eyes were no longer a clear chocolate-grey, but a murky, dull, indistinguishable colour; the sunken hollows where his cheeks were supposed to be; every single sharp rib that jutted out against sickly pale, translucent skin, climbing like a ladder from where his stomach caved in up to his severely angular collarbone.

Okay. A zombie _._

So this was what he looked like for the past two weeks? His appearance was no short of a walking nightmare.

_I could die of self-neglect._

_Maybe I should talk to someone._

Asahi had told him to talk to someone. Maybe he should. Asahi was gullible at times, but he gave good advice.

_But maybe it’s okay to die like this._

Maybe it was.

This apartment had the perfect kind of chilly silence to function as a coffin.

_These thoughts aren’t like me._

_Depressing thoughts don't suit Sugawara Koushi._

No, this truly wasn’t like him. Maybe this was a sign that he should find help after all.

Suga slid his phone out from his pocket, thumbing through his contacts. He stopped at the number fittingly labeled, ‘Mr. Gay Helpline’ - the number Kageyama had given him, but had not bothered to put a name to. He hesitated for a second before pressing the button and listening to the ringing on the other end. The ringing stopped as Mr. Gay Helpline picked up the phone. An enthusiastic, awfully familiar voice immediately assaulted Suga’s ear.

“Hello, Mr. Refreshing~”

 _Oh god._ Suga pressed a finger to his temple, rubbing in small circles. This had to be a joke.

“Tobio-chan told me to expect you, although this is a tad later than we imagined...”

***

Asahi watched as Daichi set down his bowl of ramen and slid onto the bench opposite him. The university cafeteria was rowdy with the clatter of silverware against ceramic and the scrape of benches against kitchen tile.

“What’s up, Asahi?” Daichi gave Asahi a kind smile, reminiscent of his captain days. “You said you wanted to talk?”

Asahi stared morosely at his own bowl of katsudon. He took a deep breath, resolving himself to the oncoming shitstorm.

_I can’t chicken out now._

“Daichi, what happened between you and Suga that night?”

The smile slid off Daichi’s face and was replaced with a lopsided expression which Asahi couldn’t quite place. Was that regret? A shadow of anger? Asahi saw Daichi’s fingers tighten unconsciously around the chopsticks, gripping so hard, they looked about ready to snap.

“Why do you ask?” Daichi gritted out, his jaw clenched painfully. The words sounded awfully like, _it’s none of your business._

“I saw Suga yesterday,” Asahi stated, watching Daichi avert his gaze. “He looked like shit.” When Daichi didn’t reply, Asahi continued. “He hasn’t been eating. He looks like he hasn't been sleeping either. He was so thin, I could close a fist around his upper arm.”

Daichi’s head whipped up and winced at Asahi’s accusatory glare. Suga hadn’t been eating? Hadn't been sleeping? 

“I simply thought you would want to know,” Asahi shrugged.

_Because you caused this, Daichi._

“Nothing happened,” Daichi replied, hoping he would appear nonchalant under Asahi’s probing stare. He repeated it for good measure, although not fooling anyone. “Really, nothing happened between us.”

Daichi sucked in a breath, the unconvincing lie painfully bitter on his tongue.

_But I hurt him._

_I fucking hurt him._

He bit his lip, facade quickly breaking down as he watched Asahi’s fingers tap out a non-rhythm on the dining table. The larger man's gaze was so penetrating, he could feel it drilling holes into the top of his skull.

After several unbearable moments of silence, Daichi heard the other man sigh.

“Noya was right. You really are a bad liar.” Asahi stood up, towering over the seated man. Daichi had always been honest with his emotions. As he sat there, still staring at his ramen, Asahi could practically see guilt scribbled all over his former captain’s face. Asahi leaned over, planting a large hand on the table and the other one on his friend’s shoulder.

“Please go apologise to him, Daichi-san,” Asahi said gently. “For Suga. And for you.”

Asahi gave him a small smile and a nod before picking up his bowl and walking away. Daichi nodded back and quickly found himself alone with his ramen.

He nodded again, this time to himself.

***

Soft music and quiet murmurs filled the silence between the once-rival setters.

 _At least he has a decent taste with bars,_ Suga thought.

The dimly-lit bar had an intimate, elegant atmosphere, with tasteful indie rock making prolonged breaks in conversation less awkward. Oikawa had been very respectful of Suga's space the entire night, careful not to probe deeper than what Suga thought was comfortable to talk about, and when the silver-haired setter had been unwilling to talk anymore about himself, Oikawa invited Suga to ask questions about himself instead, and thus the ensuing silence.

Suga stayed silent, pondering for a few seconds longer before asking the question Oikawa had been anticipating since Suga had entered the bar, looking worried, deathly tired and frail, but so ethereally beautiful, as though he would disappear at any moment if he was not careful.

_Mr. Refreshing definitely grew prettier, if not any taller._

Suga's lips parted, and if Oikawa could just _touch_ them…

“... so you're gay, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa’s face lit up. 

“Sort of!”

“Sort of?” Suga echoed, puzzled.

“The correct term would be 'bisexual’, but people confuse it with 'gay’ all the time.”

“So you date both men and women.”

“In a simple sense, yes. I'm sexually attracted to both men and women, but I'm more inclined towards men,” Oikawa explained with a shrug. “It's a spectrum. Some people aren't sexually attracted to others at all. Some people discover certain parts of their sexuality at different times of their life.”

“... discover other parts of their sexuality?” Suga’s voice almost sounded _hopeful_?

Oikawa was startled by his companion’s sudden change in tone.

_Don't tell me..._

“Suga-san… you're not in love with a straight man, are you?”

"No!" Suga replied quickly, expression adamant. It lasted barely five seconds before Oikawa watched it slip, walls toppling over as quickly as they had come up. The chocolate-grey eyes glossed over, and Suga gazed down at the cocktail in front of him, the hands holding the glass beginning to tremble.

 _Of course. Of course he is._ _"_

"Suga-san..."

Met with Suga's silence, Oikawa placed a gentle hand on the smaller man's shaking one. When Suga didn't flinch away, Oikawa took both pale hands in his own, tracing the long, slender fingers, calloused at the tips.

_A setter’s hands._

_Like mine_.

Oikawa glanced into Suga's eyes, capturing chocolate-grey irises in his maroon-brown ones. His eyes brushed over the silver-haired setter’s beauty mark and lingered on the sad smile playing around his lips.

 _I want to make this man happy_ , Oikawa realised. He clutched Suga's hands with greater force, looking up to meet the man's gaze once more.

“Suga-san, would you like to go to Tokyo with me next weekend?”

“... Tokyo?” Suga asked, a curious brow raised. “What for?”

“The gay bars, of course!" Oikawa responded, grinning. "And to visit some old friends...”

***

“... I am really sorry that I hurt you, and I hope that we can return to the relationship… ”

Daichi frowned with disapproval at the tattered piece of paper he was reading from, leaning forward and placing it down on the bathroom counter. He procured a pen from the fold of his ear and scratched out the last sentence. How could he make it more sincere? He just really, _really_ wanted Suga back. Picking up the piece of paper, he scribbled more illegible letters over the mess of black marks, and resumed reciting the apology speech to his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“... I really regret the words that I said, and I am so sorry that I hurt you. You may not forgive me, but I…”

***

Two impassive blue-grey eyes watched as the shoji door to the small izakaya-styled bar slid open, revealing the first two guests of the evening. The bar had been open for only about fifteen minutes, and guests hardly ever came in before 6PM, so the eyes followed the door curiously, waiting to reveal the guests who seemed to be insistent on drinking so early in the afternoon. The sound of chatter and laughter drifted into the bar and the eyes narrowed instinctively at the familiar styled brown hair before gliding to the smaller man standing beside his regular guest, another face he knew well, but had not seen in a few years. Before the bartender could open his mouth to greet his guests, however, the smaller man’s large, round eyes crinkled with recognition and a wide smile.

“Akaashi-san!”

“Sugawara-san. It is good to see you again.”

“When Oikawa-san said he wanted to visit some friends, I was wondering who they were,” Suga teased playfully, nudging the brunette.

Oikawa pouted at his new friend. “You didn’t think it would be anyone _sketchy_ , did you?”

Suga didn’t miss a beat, grinning back. “You can be rather unpredictable at times, Oikawa-san.”   

 _Are they together?_ Akaashi wondered. He didn’t know that Suga was gay, but since the silver-haired setter had just walked into a gay bar, Akaashi could only assume that that was the case.

The two guests settled into the stools right in front of Akaashi, Oikawa resting his head on his palms and asking, “Keiji-chan, where is Koutarou-chan?”

Akaashi simply pointed with his thumb to the kitchen behind him, separated by a fabric doorway partition. “He’s preparing the food right now.”

“Koutarou-chan!” Oikawa called into the kitchen. “Yakisoba, please! Two servings!” Turning to Suga, he explained happily, “Koutarou-chan makes a mean yakisoba.”

A large figure appeared in the kitchen doorway, barraging through the flimsy partition. “Hey! Did someone say I’m mean?”

Bokuto hadn’t changed at all since the last time Suga had seen him, spiked black hair still streaked with silvery-white, but now wrapped inside a navy blue bandana, and golden eyes burning with unbound energy. He spotted Oikawa sitting on the side of the bar counter and his lips stretched into a smile so wide, it threatened to split his face.

“Ohoho?”

Even his speaking quirks hadn’t changed.  

“Tooru! You’re here! You said I was mean?” The owl-like spiker glanced over to Suga, and while his grin looked like it looked ready stretch right off his face, it widened even further. Really, it did. “And you brought someone! Suga-, su-, Karasuno’s vice-captain!”

Suga just laughed at Bokuto struggling over his name. He extended a hand, seemingly unfazed by the greasy, soy-sauce stained hand that took it, pumping it enthusiastically.

“Sugawara Koushi. Please call me Suga.”

“Suga! Fancy you coming here! But you!” Bokuto pointed an accusing finger at Oikawa, “You called me mean!”

Akaashi sighed at his boyfriend’s antics, placing two firm hands on the massive man’s shoulders and leaning forward to peck a kiss on his nose before steering him back towards the kitchen.

“Nobody called you mean, Koutarou. Yakisoba. Two servings. Smells like they’re burning.”

Bokuto hurried back into the kitchen with a quick yelp, and Akaashi turned back to the two guests sitting across the bar.

“So, what would you like to drink?”

“Just two beers please, Keiji-chan.”

The two men watched the bartender work in silence, pouring the foamy drink into two tall glasses before sliding them onto coasters. The two men took their drinks gratefully. Suga sipped at the beer, licking the foam off his lips before looking up to Akaashi, question in his eyes.

“So Akaashi-san and Bokuto-san own this place?”

Akaashi nodded. “Koutarou opened this place after dropping out of college with some of his parents’ funds. Studying and collegiate volleyball weren’t for him, I guess.” The black-haired setter shrugged. “I still go to college in the mornings and afternoons, but help out after school.”

The night went on lighthearted, and Suga ate more than he did the entire week, Bokuto proving Oikawa’s words true and displaying remarkable skill in the kitchen that rivaled his skills as wing spiker. Business was slow that evening, and the volleyball players had enough time to catch up with one another. Bokuto was on his third beer and rambling incessantly about Kuroo, until he mentioned the name Suga most wanted to _not_ hear.

“... and then Kuroo puked all over Kenma who looked _so_ pissed. Oh yeah, I think your captain was there.”

Suga’s back stiffened.  

“What’s his face again? Daichi. Oh yeah. Daichi was there. They usually go out for drinks together when they’re in the same area, though they usually just start a bitch fest. I swear they _enjoy_ it though-”

The three other men heard the silver-haired man partially choke and splutter into his beer. Oikawa immediately had a hand on Suga’s back, rubbing circles as the other setter coughed softly.

“Are you oka-” Oikawa began to ask, noticing the grin Suga had on his face shrink into a weaker, more subdued, smile, until it faded into nothing. His hands gripped the base of his beer glass with such force that his hands shook, and realisation dawned on the brunette.

Oh. It was the straight man.

He was _the_ straight man.

Oikawa whispered gently into Suga’s ear, “so you love him?”

Suga’s head whipped around, eyes set with denial and determination.

"No! Why do you-" 

Oikawa gave Suga a _Look_. Suga's hands were obviously shaking now. To his credit, he lasted ten seconds this time. A staring match with Oikawa was not a fun ordeal. The lips Oikawa wanted to touch quivered and parted with words Suga just couldn't choke out, and the chocolate-grey eyes brimmed with pain.

 _So much pain_. 

"Oh Suga-chan..." Oikawa leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the other setter's now-trembling torso. "You love him, don't you?" 

Oikawa felt slightest nod from the smaller man against his shoulder.

“B-but h-he _hates_ me. He thinks I’m _disgusting_ ,” Suga murmured, voice hollow. “A disgusting homo. A shameless s- _slut_.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened in disbelief. As he asked the next question, the two storekeepers seemed to lean in with curiosity and concern.

“He said those things to you?”

Suga nodded weakly.

 _No_.

When Oikawa came out to Iwa-chan, his childhood friend had given hima funny, lopsided look, but accepted it without question, and they simply resumed their relationship as normal. But now this, _this_ was at a whole different level of _fucked up._ He swore if he ever saw that _asshole_ of a captain again, he would slam his next service ace right into the man’s face. If that piece of shit couldn’t appreciate beauty, he did not deserve Sugawara Koushi.

Nobody knew quite what to say for a long moment. It was Akaashi who broke the silence.

“You know, Suga-san,” Akaashi interjected. “There are assholes out there, but people often say these things because they don't know better, or they're trying to deny how they feel. I don't believe Sawamura-san is an asshole. Koutarou used to spew all kinds homophobic shit as well.”

“Hey-”

“He used to say words like ‘fag’ and ‘homo’. I thought he was straight because of the things he'd said, and the number of girls he'd gone out with, but I'd say he rather like that one night he spent with me,” Akaashi went on, ignoring the terrifying tomato red his boyfriend’s face (and everybody else’s in the room) had become, continuing with a completely impassive face, “and hasn’t been with anyone else ever since.”

Suga smiled at the attempt at comfort, looking up at the bartender with weary eyes that gave him away. Akaashi seemed to understand.

“But loving a straight man, presumed or not, is like slow poison seeping through every cell of your body,” Akaashi added quietly, “especially one that hurt you.”

He pushed another cold beer to Suga, nodding. “On the house.”

***

“Suga-chan?”

The turning green and orange of early autumn trees and the dark grey of the highway’s asphalt blurred against Suga’s vision as he stared out the window, humming acknowledgement at Oikawa’s questioning tone. They had driven an hour in almost complete silence, allowing the radio to fill the empty space that would usually be occupied with conversation. It was out of character for Oikawa to speak so little.

“Would you consider giving me a chance?”

Suga turned to the brunette gripping the steering wheel with practiced ease, raising a brow expectantly. When nothing more came out of the other setter’s mouth, Suga prompted, “give you a chance to…?”

“To make you happy,” Oikawa answered simply.

_To be loved by someone who cares._

The brunette noticed that Suga was no longer looking at him, instead staring straight ahead at the road, but from his side profile, Oikawa could see the corner of his mouth pulled ever so slightly into a sad smile.

“But you have already made me happy.”

Oikawa sighed. The silver-haired setter had always been obstinate, both when he faced him on court three years ago and even now, in Oikawa’s flashy second-hand car.

“You know what I mean, Suga-chan.”

The silence that enveloped them now was pregnant with tension, unlike the silence before. It took a few minutes before Suga spoke again.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you, Oikawa-san.”

“I am not that weak, Suga-chan.”

“I know what it is to love somebody who won’t love you, Oikawa-san,” Suga continued smoothly. “I still love him, and I don’t want to hurt you with feelings that can’t be buried.”

Oikawa nodded. He felt a twinge of sadness, but he had expected as much. And he liked Suga's brutal honesty, a firm rejection to avoid any further unnecessary pain. Oikawa knew what Suga felt and where they stood. That was enough for him. That would _have_ to be enough. Suga had always tried to minimise everyone else’s hurt but his own.  

“Then at least call me Tooru, Suga-chan.” Oikawa turned to his friend, forgetting that he was speeding down a busy highway, and punched the man playfully on his arm. “You make me feel old.”

“Okay, Tooru-kun.” Suga grinned, and Oikawa watched as the beauty mark he had come to love tug upwards with a crinkle of those chocolate-grey eyes. “Too old for a couple more drinks?”

***

A nostalgic pang of warmth filled Daichi’s chest as he heard Suga’s melodious laughter ring down the hall of the apartment building and felt a smile tug at his lips. He hadn’t heard that laugh, so genuine and unrestrained, sound from Suga’s lips in over three years. It was beautiful. He took double steps up the stairs of the apartment building with renewed energy to see his friend and finally fucking apologise and make everything right again, because that was exactly what he needed right now. For everything to be _right_ again.

Daichi stopped cold on the top step of the stairs when he heard another familiar voice, the cause of Suga’s laughter, and almost fell down the flight of stairs he had just climbed.

“... And then of course Iwa-chan had to shove all that meat down his throat. It was gross! Of course Mad Dog-chan couldn’t keep up! It was, what. Like 10 pounds of cow! Even I didn’t know Iwa-chan had it in him.” The voice made a disgusted noise, and Daichi heard peels of that melodious laughter from Suga’s lips again. The former captain gathered his resolve.

_It’s now or never._

Daichi turned the corner to Suga’s new apartment. It was in a newer building, and a much nicer neighbourhood. All the circumstances were just… better than _that_ night. And Suga was laughing. That was enough reassurance for Daichi. He saw Oikawa and Suga loitering outside the apartment, Suga fumbling with the keys he had fished out of his pocket. Daichi took a deep breath and called out to his best friend.

“Suga.”

The silver-haired man swallowed his laughter immediately, panic crossing his face. Daichi could see Suga’s adam’s apple bob up and down his throat, even where he was, still ten feet away, but he almost couldn’t hear Suga when he choked out, “why are you here?”

Daichi was stricken by Suga’s less-than-pleased reaction, but his lips were forming a response for him already. “I got your forwarding address from your old apartment’s landlord. I wanted to-” Daichi couldn’t finish, because at that moment, Suga had inexplicably fallen forward onto his knees, clutching the collar of his shirt frantically and clawing at his chest as though no air was entering his lungs. Daichi took a step forward, but Oikawa was already kneeling beside the silver-haired setter, a comforting arm around his shoulder, thumb rubbing circles into Suga’s shoulder blade and hushed voice speaking gently into Suga’s ear.

“Suga-chan, breathe. Take a deep breath, and we‘ll count to ten.”

Daichi was lost. He had no idea what he could do to help. He wanted to be the one with his arm around Suga, comforting him, but he knew that he had no right. He had hurt Suga after all. He watched as Oikawa continued to murmur into Suga’s ear.

When Suga regained some sense of himself, hands rubbing at his moist eyes, soft sobs wracking his body, the other captain glared at Daichi. He seemed to mouth, “ _leave_ ”.

Daichi didn’t know what to do. He took a step forward, towards Suga, but backtracked when Oikawa’s glare grew several degrees colder. It was cold, but filled with such burning anger, message painfully clear: _it’s your fault_. His eyes might as well have been shooting both ice and flames right now.

So Daichi took another step back, and ran.

He didn’t know where he was headed, but he still ran. He ran, and the images of Suga clutching at his chest, struggling to breathe, tears welling up in his eyes, falling, agonisingly replayed over and over. He ran until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore, and had no sense of where he was. He stopped under a streetlight, panting, hands on his knees, the image of Suga falling to the ground and Oikawa glaring daggers at him still looping in his mind.

 _He_ had done this.

What the _fuck._

_What the actual fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the erratic change of POVs. I know it's a little bit of a mess. And I think I overuse italics, but they're just a good way to emphasise things without having to capitalise and bold. There were so many things I wanted to say when I wrote this! I've forgotten them now, but comment if you have questions! 
> 
> Suga does have anxiety, by the way. 
> 
> I love BokuAka. I really do. By the way, in my mind, Bokuto's usually on the top, but they switch occasionally. I was going to write a scene where Oikawa and Suga are sleeping in BokuAka's apartment (because accommodation is expensive), and Bokuto makes a lot of noise because he insisted to bottom that night and he's not used to it. Oh well, just imagine it maybe. 
> 
> Tokyo is a four hour drive from the Miyagi prefecture, so Suga and Oikawa go on Saturday morning, arrive in the afternoon, stay the night at BokuAka's, and then return on Sunday. Sunday was when Daichi was going to apologise, but caused a breakdown instead. 
> 
> This fic is only going to go on for roughly two more chapters, I believe. Or at least, that's how the plot outline is playing out right now. I also plan to finish this very soon because I am going to be a college freshman in two weeks (oh god, I hate school so much), and apparently, the first semester is a time to 'settle down' and 'get used to things', so I probably won't be writing too much as a result.


End file.
